Why we don’t snort sandwiches. . .

michelleI was minding my own business, eating a sandwich when my mom made me laugh.

And I laughed PRECISELY at a time when I was about to swallow sandwich.

A HUGE chunk of sandwich went UP MY NOSE and lodged in place.

Jeez!

One way in, another way out.

So I blew my nose.

HARD.

And tomato flew out of my right nostril.

I blew hard AGAIN and cheese came out of my left nostril.

And yet, I still wasn’t done.

I could still feel something lodged in my nose.

So I blew my nose hard, OVER and OVER AGAIN. And a HUGE chunk of bread came flying out.

Whew!

I blew a sandwich.

Star Wars Time Machine

harrisonOkay, so this week Carrie Fisher “let the cat out of the bag” and admitted that she and Harrison Ford bumped uglies during on the set of Star Wars.

I think I echo the thoughts of the rest of the world when I say:

DUH.

It was some sort of weed induced, drug hazed 3-month fling.

And I think I echo the thoughts of women and gay men alike when I say:

Yes, please!

To paraphrase the comments made by a fellow blogger on the topic, who among us would not fuck Harrison Ford, especially Star Wars Harrison Ford?

It is for this reason I would like to build a fucking time machine. So I could go back in time and fuck Han Solo/Indiana Jones.

I’m not the only one that thinks this way.

In fact, were I to create just such a time machine I’d also go back in time and:

  1. Bet on the Cubs
  2. Go to a Prince concert
  3. Hear Freddy Mercury sing live
  4. Save Heath Ledger
  5. Kill Hitler
  6. Get out the vote for Hillary
  7. Invest in Apple in 1976
  8. Sleep with that lovely Scotsman while on vacation in Inverness

Yeah, there’s quite a few “serious” things I do too.

To save the lives of my lost loved ones, you know.

But Harrison Ford?

He’s top on the list.

Sadly, for my sake I think I will have to be satisfied with a lumberjack in a Han Solo costume.

But I’m imaginative.

I can pretend.

Am I Worth 200 Nickels?

lingerieThis is NOT going to be a post lamenting my single status.

As you all know, I very much enjoy being single and playing the field.

No, this is not a post about that.

This is a post about the TOTAL WASTE OF SPACE MY LINGERIE COLLECTION IS TAKING UP.

It’s so UNDERUSED.

Seriously.

Do I need to wear a sign around my neck that says date me?

Or maybe it should say something else?

Don’t go there.

Respect.

Even if there was a man I could wear lingerie for, I doubt he’d appreciate it.

Honestly, I can count on one hand the number of times a man has stopped in the middle of the action to remark on my lingerie.

It’s just something that gets in the way of all that delicious nudity.

On the other hand, if I had a nickel for every time a man paused, shook his head slowly, and remarked on what a nice body I have, I’d be rich.

Well, I’d at least be able to buy myself a beer.

New man = new bedding

I have a thing about bedding.

Every time I get a new boyfriend, I get new bedding.

It’s an UNCONTROLLABLE urge.

It just seems wrong to sleep with a different man in sheets christened by his predecessor.

Am I right?

No jokes about how much bedding I should have, btw.

It all started 8 years ago.

I had beautiful red floral IKEA bedding which I slept in with my then-boyfriend Jay.

I have pictures I took of him smiling at me from among those red sheets and the images are burned into my brain.

I don’t even need to close my eyes and I can see his face and those sheets.

So it was necessary when we split to gift that bedding to my sister’s spare bedroom.

And thus a habit was born.

New man = new bedding.

Needless to say, I’ve been sleeping in the same bedding for years now and I finally allowed myself the luxury of buying new bedding NOT BECAUSE OF A NEW MAN but because I simply wanted new bedding.

Oh sure, I’m sure a new man will someday snuggle with me under that comforter, but until then this girl is happy sleeping solo in my new bedding!

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New bedding christened in the Motor Beast at Burning Man 2016. Can you tell I like bright colors?

Good at Romance

michelleSo here’s the other side of the coin – the one I don’t talk about all that much.

I’m a closet romantic.

Yes folks, deep down inside there is a soft little fuzzy kitten just waiting to find someone to snuggle with.

I know it’s not cool.

Or hip.

Or even useful.

But there you have it.

I’ve done some romantic things in my life.

I held an Easter Egg hunt in a tree house hotel room filled with Easter eggs containing sweet little compliments and promises.

  • Good for one backrub
  • I love your dedication and drive
  • Good for one home cooked meal of your choice

For another boyfriend I got a cocktail book autographed by the author so he’d have it for his collection.

And I’ve driven literally THOUSANDS of miles to hang out with the men I loved – especially Steve, Jay, and Luke – just because I wanted to be with them.

I mean, throw in a couple of 30 minute blow jobs and you’ve got me nailed to a tee.

Sorry.

Couldn’t help myself.

[Hope my mom didn’t read that!]

In the end, it would be nice to be a little more romantic and a little less bawdy.

Bottom line is – it’s not like I’m incapable of romantic gestures.

I just don’t have the outlet.

Right now.

Just prepare yourself for a tsunami of sex and romance when it does happen.

Bad at Romance

michelle1First of all, I have to put up a disclaimer that says my friend Michelle would strongly disagree with what I’m about to write.

But she always sees me in a positive light.

Still, take everything I say with a grain of salt.

What I want to say is that I am bad at romance.

Yes folks, I suck at it.

I’m like a pimple faced 13 year old boy when it comes to romance.

I’ve actually said to boyfriends, “wanna knock out a piece?” and “ready to clean the pipes?”

I can’t help myself.

I just happen to be coarse when it comes to lovemaking.

I’m not sure how to ask for it so I take a humorous approach.

And that’s not all I’m bad at.

I can’t seem to wrap my head around the mushy stuff – the romantic walks, holding hands, and intimate dinners.

My idea of romance is cooking my boyfriend a steak then “knocking out a piece” on the living room floor.  If I’m feeling really decadent, we’ll make it to the bedroom.

Yes, romance for me almost always involves sex.

Perhaps that’s why when you remove it from the equation (like with the abstinent guys I have dated) I am destined to fail.

I’ve lost my ability to communicate affection.

AND it’s frustrating.

But truthfully, do men really want to be romanced?

Isn’t a steak and a blow job enough to keep them happy?

Why improve on perfection, no?

I ASPIRE to be a better lover but I’m bad at COMMUNICATING it.

Maybe, and this is a BIG MAYBE, maybe it’s just been too long since I’ve been in love.

Perhaps I’ll fall in love and the rest will take care of itself.

That would be grand.

Glue for Idiots

So.

I have this friend from Serbia.

Not Russia. Serbia.

There’s a difference, I learned.

She and I used to go out to clubs in San Francisco to drink and dance the night away.

One such night we went to a club in the City and when we walked in it was a sea of black – everyone wearing black wool coats in the San Francisco cold and fog.

I was wearing a red wool jacket.

I stood out like a sore thumb.

The red jacket had an interesting effect on the people there.

They started to approach me and compliment my jacket.

A few of the men even attempted to start conversations with me.

My friend, who was very selective in her choice of men, disagreed with the men I spoke to.

BASICALLY I WILL SPEAK TO ANYONE WHO SPEAKS TO ME.

It’s just something I’ve learned:

Never be rude.

As the night progressed, my friend became increasingly concerned over the quality of men I drew in – to put it politely, they were not dressed well enough for her tastes.

And that’s when it happened.

She nicknamed me “Glue for Idiots.”

Now I’m not saying that this isn’t true on some levels.

I think I have a very approachable demeanor that encourages men to take their shot.

All I’m saying is that I’m not going to ignore a man because he’s wearing jeans or his watch isn’t expensive enough.

Truthfully there’s nothing much sexier than a man in comfortable jeans and a t-shirt that’s a bit on the tight side who smells like freshly cut grass and deodorant stretched to it’s limit.

If that makes me glue for idiots, so be it.

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Happy Christmakkah?

screen-shot-2016-11-16-at-2-14-39-pmQuestion for you?

Is it inadvisable to send Christmas cards to your Jewish friends?

You see, I have like FOUR Jewish friends I typically send Christmas cards to. Just as a way of saying “You’re family and I’m thinking of you during the holiday season.”

But the other day one of those friends told me to save the card and give her a hug instead.

Which brings up the question. . . do Jewish people find it irritating to receive Christmas cards during the holiday season?

I wouldn’t want to offend but I’m seriously confused about the whole deal.

I wrote “Happy Hanukkah” on each of the cards.

And I bought a special Star of David sticker for the card as well, just so they know I’m not a TOTAL IMBECILE and I realize that they’re not Christian.

But maybe I’m not supposed to send a holiday card at all.

Or MAYBE I’m supposed to get a special Hanukkah card for each of them.

THAT actually may be the PERFECT THING to do.

It’s only out of sheer frugality that I send my customized CHRISTMAS card to my Jewish friends.

I’m horrified that I may have been inadvertently offending my Jewish friends for all these years.

What are your thoughts?

Body Acceptance

Have you heard?

There’s an Ashley Graham Barbie doll!

ashleyI am incredibly happy to hear about this given that if you took a classic Barbie doll and turned her into a life size doll, her proportions would be RIDICULOUS.

Inhuman.

barbieMy whole life I’ve been searching for my body in ads, magazines, photos, and products like Barbie.

I just wanted to find some proof that it’s okay to have hips. And a rounded tummy. And thick thighs. And four chins.

Just kidding.

I only have one and a half chins!

Seeing as how the average size of an American woman is 16, it seems only logical to make products designed to glorify shapes and sizes other than size 0-8.

As a child, I would have LOVED to have an Ashley Graham Barbie doll.

Validation that I’m not a freak.

But, you know, as nice as it is to find external validation, real acceptance comes from within.

Marketing will only get you so far.

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